Pain of the Heart
by I'm OK
Summary: Our wonderboy experiences the wild side of life!


Pain of the Heart  
  
A/N: I have nothing against British people. Josh and Chloe are MINE! The rest belongs the wonderful JoAnne Kathleen Rowling. My first fic, back from a year long hiatus.  
  
The night was full of stars, a night for lovers, the sky inky blue, an eyelash of the moon shining sweetly and innocently up in the sky. The summer for Harry had so far been uneventful. Harry now had phone privileges, however, more rights than he had had before; he was certain that Moody's little "threat" had caused the Dursley's sudden change of heart.  
  
He turned quietly onto Magnolia Crescent, the distant pounding of a stereo in front of him. As he approached, he found it to come from a two story house, lilac purple, and he walked up the path and stepped inside.  
  
Stepping into the musty interior of the house, the smell of pot automatically clouded his senses. There were people everywhere; pretty girls, guys in baggy clothes, a whole mess of them scattered about here and there, people sliding down the stairs on a cookie sheet and knocking down stacks of plastic cups at the bottom. Someone clapped him on the back and pressed a beer into his hand.  
  
"Hey, bro. Just chill for a while!" Harry surveyed the boy closely; he had a green mohawk, a bad complexion, two streaks of black liner running down his cheeks. His accent was clearly not British.  
  
"Hey! Where are you from?!" Harry yelled at his retreating back, a black tee with "Metallica" emblazoned across the back in angry red lettering. He turned around and grinned. =

"Josh Lewis, man. From the good old U.S. of A." He gave a funny sign with his pinky and index fingers, and Harry gave him a clueless look. Josh just waved his hand and walked away, muttering something about clueless brits.  
  
It was after his fourth beer that he saw her; by this time he was thoroughly drunk. She had a lot of makeup on; her hair was a deep auburn, medium length and flipped at the ends, and he couldn't help but wonder what it smelled like. Her eyes were rimmed in dark black, like ink, with a white shimmery line along her top lash line. Her lips were filled with a frosty pink, the top one thin but the bottom one full. She caught his eyes and bit her lower lip.  
  
He wouldn't have done it had he not been drunk; nevertheless, her staggered over to her, wobbling uncertainly, the alcohol making him woozy. He stepped up to her; she was quite pretty. He tried to speak, but the words slurred on his tongue, coming out as some kind of odd gurgle. She giggled behind a graceful hand and said, "I'm Chloe. Chloe Lewis."  
  
"Harry. Harry Potter." He unconsciously held out his hand, to shake hers, but she set her beer on a table and hugged him gently. He leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her waist, smelling her hair. It was just like apples and spiced candy. She gave him an extra tight squeeze and let him go. He stepped back reluctantly and looked at her in the eyes. She was a good few inches shorter than him, probably about 5' 6", short compared to his 5' 10" lanky frame. He suddenly became self conscience, and ran a hand through his hair, shifting his weight from foot to foot, back and forth. She giggled again, smiled, showing pearly teeth, one of the front teeth crossed over the other only slightly.  
  
"You related to Josh?" Harry said, now suddenly and desperately needing to look cool, leaning against a table suavely. She rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, sadly. He's my kid brother."  
  
"How old is he?"  
  
"14."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"16 in October."  
  
"Really? I'm older than you, then. I'm sixteen in July."  
  
"Awesome."  
  
They spent the night talking, drinking beer after beer, and finally Harry didn't even have a logical thought in his brain. It was probably all of the unfamiliar alcohol that caused the action; he never could have put the first move otherwise. He leaned over and kissed her. She jumped at first, unsuspecting, but slowly kissed him back. Their lips soon parted, and they were snogging right there on the couch. No one seemed to notice; a lamp crashed to the floor right beside them on the couch. He found himself sliding his hand up her tight shirt, cupping her breast, and she whimpered deep in the back of her throat. She stood up, pulling him with her, still kissing him, and led him up to her bedroom.  
  
The rest of the night passed in a hazy mess. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe; she had the most amazing body. After the end came, it was like the onset of a terrible winter chill. His head was pounding furiously, and she was breathing gently after five minutes. He leaned over and kissed her gently. Collapsing next to her on the bed, his last conscious thought was to wonder what in the hell he had just done. 


End file.
